


Black Hoodie

by TessaTheDreamer



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Scars, Soulmate AU, tally mark au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 13:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17183759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TessaTheDreamer/pseuds/TessaTheDreamer
Summary: When you fall in love, a red tally mark appears on your skin. When the love is requited, it turns black. When your love dies, it turns into a scar. Virgil feels a new mark appear on his arm.





	Black Hoodie

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr @angels-twice-descending

Virgil drank another sip of his water. He was drenched with sweat underneath his black hoodie. Even though the theatre group was indoors, it was still summer and the hall had no air conditioning. It was hotter than hell.

He had had almost half of the group ask him whether he wasn’t too hot in his sweatshirt. He said no, of course. It was a lie. They all seemed to go through with it. He wished they didn’t.

A guy, one of the actors, walked up to him. He was a cute guy, tall, usually wore glasses, a button-up and a tie. Virgil was surprised he was in the theatre group. For a guy so athletic looking, yet so nerdy at the same time, he didn’t seem like the theatre type. His name was Logan.

“Aren’t you hot in that hoodie?” Logan asked, nudging his head towards it.

Virgil’s heart fluttered, his stomach twisting.

“N-no,” he managed to utter, “not really.”

The guy eyed Virgil slowly (and subtly.)

“You look hot to me,” he said.

Virgil tried not to blush, but he did anyways. He suddenly felt a searing pain, as if a painful paper cut, underneath his black sleeve.

“Sorry, I have to go,” Logan smiled, the rest of the theater group calling him, “they’re restarting act two rehearsal. You should get to your place too.”

“Yes, I should,” Virgil looked after him as he jogged away and left towards backstage.

Practice ended early and Virgil was delighted. Even though he felt like his flesh was being burned off in the direct sunlight, he walked slowly. The bit of skin on his arm still prickled. As he walked on, he watched the people pass. They all had tally marks. At least the adults did. Every one of them had at least one red mark, like semi-healed stab wounds on their arms. Some had black marks, visible and as if radiating heat. There were those who had a scar too. He saw an older lady pass with four scar marks on her wrinkled skin.

Reaching his apartment, he pulled of the hoodie and let his skin breathe. His marked skin. Tally marks dotted his arms; most were red, unrequited young love. There were quite a few scars. Each one had a story. One was a childhood love; died in an accident. One was a teenage love; killed himself. He remembered all of them. Their faces, their voices, their smiles. Each scar was an echo. Each hurt too much.

He looked at the brand new black mark, the first one in years, standing out starkly against his pale skin. It shone, dimming the other tally marks. But all his loves were unlucky. This one wouldn’t be much different.

He rubbed at the mark, as if hoping it would go away. Even so, he pulled his phone out of his backpack and dialled Logan’s number.


End file.
